Poetry

Just wound all the clocks forward.
Kissed goodbye

I swallowed his flames
like flames swallow moths

God! I want so much of everything,
all of the time

I never found your brown corduroy

my teeth hurt
rattling around

The pull of the brush,
knots and static

she walks,
down the street with no socks

The smell of new sways from the rearview mirror

I beg you to cease your antics

bright day
clocks
nuzzled into his breast